


Quiet Conversations

by aquietdin



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of parental abuse/neglect, Mutual Pining, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-06-28 07:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19807129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquietdin/pseuds/aquietdin
Summary: A collection of one-shots that may or may not relate to each other. Ongoing.





	1. Cold Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn't want to go home.
> 
> (content warning for this chapter: brief mentions of parental abuse/neglect)

It was cold. The kind of cold that drew Paris in, seeping through the stones and washing over the streets, pushing residents through doors to escape it. It left silence in its wake, across the streets and alleys, broken only by the occasional rapid click of shoes followed by the squeak of hinges, bouncing from building to building.

At this late hour, and without snow to muffle, even the smallest sound was a canon firing.

He resisted the urge to tap his baton, the swish of his tail cutting through the air making enough racket in the stillness to wake half the city. His breath formed thick clouds in front of his face, and hugging his arms to his chest, it was finally time to admit that he was beginning to feel it too, even through the armored leather of his suit.

A tug in his mind. Plagg. _Go home already. I’m cold and hungry._

Not an option.

Standing and stretching, Chat felt his back pop in a few places. The Eiffel Tower was beautiful against the night sky, glittering in the inky black. Had it been a few degrees warmer, he would have gladly scaled it to his favorite view of the Parisian skyline, but as it was, his Kwami had a point: he was cold and hungry. And tired, scrubbing at his sore eyes with the heels of his hands and wondering if they could look bloodshot despite the green. He needed to find shelter.

Master Fu’s home? No. It was late.

Nino’s? His father must have already sent someone there to find him.

There weren’t many other options.

Unless…

The rooftop terrace was just the same as last time he’d visited, with the exception of the planter boxes, now empty save for some frozen soil. The fairy lights remained dark, the little lawn chair and spool tea table both in their same spot, though they both looked in need of a cleaning. And the skylight hatch, covered in a thick, fitted tarp, that led to the room below.

Chat poised his hand to knock, then lowered it. She was probably asleep by now, bundled up in her bed, warm and cozy and safe. What right did he have to disturb her?

He let himself thump down into the lawn chair with a sigh, curling his arms around himself and drawing his knees up.

xxx

Hovering on the cusp of sleep, with a half-formed dream swirling before her, Marinette let herself burrow further under her blankets. She was nearly there: a party. Cake, drinks, music. And waiting for her on the dance floor, with stars in his eyes --

A thump snapped her back to her bed like a rubber band. Marinette blinked against the darkness, hearing Tikki let out a tiny sigh from her little cushion on the shelf above her head.

She should go right back to sleep. A quick glance told her the skylight hatch was locked, and even if it wasn’t, her terrace was five stories up. No one could get up there without considerable effort. Unless they were…

Frowning, Marinette left the cocoon of quilts and gently prodded Tikki with her finger. The Kwami stirred, giving her a bewildered look. Marinette only pointed upwards with a frown. If he was up there, she didn’t dare risk speaking to Tikki. His keen ears would pick up even the barest of whispers.

Tikki seemed to understand, zipping from her cushion and phasing through the ceiling. She returned a moment later, nodding her head and mouthing _Chat._

Marinette chewed her lip. What was he doing here?

As quietly as she could, Marinette stood on her mattress and flicked open the hatch lock, pushing it open with a grunt. The draft guard her father installed to keep the winter air from pouring on her in her sleep made it tricky, but the small trap door finally moved enough for her to spy the end of a black leather belt on the balcony floor.

Hefting the hatch up further, a blast of icy air hit her face and made Marinette cringe, her sweater doing next to nothing to protect her. She blinked against it, and when her vision cleared, she found a pair of glowing green eyes peering down at her from the lawn chair.

“Chat Noir?”

He gave her a small, lopsided smile. “Good evening, Marinette. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She stepped up using the shelves behind her bed as ladder and glanced around. “What are you doing here? Is there an Akuma?” And then, on a whim, added: “Is Ladybug with you?”

Chat shook his head, his blond hair bobbing around his ears. “Not to worry, Princess. All is calm, and I imagine my lady is somewhere warm and safe.”

He wore a grin, but after all the time they spent together, Marinette knew his ticks. The way the corners of his mask remained smooth told of a false smile, the brave face he put on in the face of danger and doubt. And on his neck, on the tiny bit of skin that his suit didn’t cover, goosebumps covered his flesh.

“Do you want to come in?”

He hesitated. “I don’t want to impose.”

“Chat.” She held out a hand and curled her fingers, beckoning him. “It’s cold. Come inside.”

It took another short bout of staring before he uncoiled himself from the chair, following Marinette through the hatch to land on her bed in a crouch. She closed the trap door and turned the lock, then settled beside him. Chat was quiet; that alone set off alarm bells, and coupled with his pensive stare was worrisome in a dozen different ways. Marinette put a hand on his arm.

It was like ice.

“Chat,” she breathed, finally noting his flushed cheeks and red nose, his pale lips. “You’re freezing.”

He had the nerve to wink at her. “Nothing a superhero can’t handle.”

It was so like him that Marinette pondered flicking his frozen ear, settling instead for yanking his arm and forcing him to sit as she gathered the blankets and quilts from her bed and wrapped them around him. Satisfied with the kitty bundle she’d made, Marinette stuck a finger in his face.

“Stay here,” she ordered, then descended down the stairs and left her room.

Her mother and father were still awake, watching television as she came down the stairs and went straight for the kettle on the stove. It was still warm.

“Marinette?” Her mother asked. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah Mom,” she lied, turning on the burner under the kettle. “Just can’t sleep, I think I need a snack.”

Her father waved a finger in her direction. “Nothing too heavy, now. You’ll wake up with a stomach ache.”

“Yes, dad.”

As the kettle boiled, Marinette loaded a dessert plate with a leftover croissant, pear slices from the fridge, a few squares of chocolate, and, remembering Plagg, a small wedge of brie.

xxx

It took several minutes for the feeling to bleed back into his fingers, wrapped up in enough blankets for at least three beds. They were warm, too - she must have been sleeping in them just before he disturbed her. Chat just barely managed to not sniff them, frowning at himself.

The door to her room creaked open, followed by it closing and light footsteps. A hand appeared at the foot of the loft, setting down a plate. Then Marinette came back into view, climbing up to sit beside him.

“Here,” she pushed a steaming mug at him, waiting patiently as he extracted his arms from the blanket nest she’d made.

Chat took a sip and closed his eyes. It was honeyed tea with cream, sliding hot down his throat and sending warmth through his numb body. She watched him in silence as he drank.

“Thank you, Marinette.”

She scooted over to sit beside him, and Chat smiled. Her pajama pants were covered in cartoon owls, her socks mismatched.

“Are you okay?”

“It’s nothing a cup of tea with a lovely girl won’t fix.”

He was hoping to get away with just an unplanned visit. But Marinette, for all her stammering and awkwardness, was razor sharp. He put on his best grin. It didn’t work.

“Chat.”

With a puff of breath he let his face relax, sipping at his tea. He could feel Marinette’s gaze glued to the side of his face like a hot ray of sunshine, burning against his frozen skin. He didn’t know where to start. Or if he should even start at all.

“Maybe you should talk to Ladybug about it?”

The laugh he let out was soft and humorless as he pictured Ladybug, in all her radiant beauty and power, saving Paris time and time again. “My lady has plenty to worry about. She doesn’t need this tomcat’s grumbling on top of everything else.”

Chat didn’t have to turn his head to see Marinette’s frown, the crease in her brow that her bangs wouldn’t hide. He reached for a square of chocolate to get away from it.

“Grumble to me, then?”

He turned to her, with her dark hair slightly tangled from sleep, her giant, honest eyes. Chat was tired. _Adrien_ was tired. One would think leading a double life would afford him some outlet for the less than pleasant experiences, but he found none. Adrien had to be perfect. Chat Noir had to be a hero. There was little margin of error.

Marinette’s pinky finger extended towards him. “Whatever you say won’t leave this room. Promise.”

Chat grinned, adding ‘intuitive’ and ‘empathetic’ to his list of descriptors for Marinette Dupain-Cheng as he extended a clawed pinky to hook around hers.

He was quiet for a spell. He didn’t even know how to begin unpacking his copious amounts of emotional baggage, the weight of which he felt more keenly with each passing day, as time stripped him of his boyish naivety and replaced it with cold truths. He took a breath. “My relationship with my father is… strained.”

Marinette didn’t say anything. He finished off the tea and let her take the mug from his hands, setting it on the shelves behind them.

“We got in an argument today,” Chat continued, though ‘argument’ was practically a euphemism for what transpired in his house a few hours earlier. Shouting. Accusations. A bravery fueled by anger and frustration boiling in his chest, until the sting of his father’s palm against his cheek snuffed it out. Adrien’s backside hitting the pristine marble floors, staring up in shock at the dawning horror slowly contorting Gabriel Agreste’s face.

_‘Adrien--'_

He ran. Not to his room, but straight out the front door, crossing the yard in record time and slamming into the iron gate, feeling it give and open, then tearing down the street as several voices called for him. Ducking into the first deserted alley he could find and summoning Plagg to escape to the rooftops. But he didn’t dare tell Marinette that he’d run away. For all he knew, it was on every news outlet in Paris. He could picture it: _Adrien Agreste Missing._

“He wants me to be something,” his own voice sounded foreign to his ears, tiny and fragile. “But I don’t know if I can be that person anymore.”

He felt Marinette shift beside him. “What about your mother?”

Chat wanted to laugh. The very source of his fight with his father. “She’s gone.”

The room was still and quiet. Then a pair of skinny arms covered in knit cotton wound around his neck, whatever reservations Adrien might have had crumbling as he allowed himself to be cradled.

xxx

Marinette awoke slowly, feeling seeping into her dreams until pink clouds and flying kittens faded into quilts and pillows. She opened her eyes to see the tiniest hints of light coming through her windows. It wasn’t quite dawn yet, but her parents were likely already hard at work, the aroma of fresh baked goods beginning to float up to her room.

She should go back to sleep. Her alarm wouldn’t sound for at least another hour, maybe more. Stretching her legs just a little, Marinette sighed into her pillow.

A matching sigh came from over her shoulder. Marinette froze in place, her eyes snapping open.

There was warmth at her back.

Someone breathing.

And now that her eyes were adjusting to the dark, she could see an arm, the skin a little more tan than her own with a dark blue sleeve pushed almost up to the elbow, draped over her.

Her heart began to race, a litany of _there is someone in my bed_ blaring in her mind. Marinette was two seconds from panic when she spied a little black shape curled up in the blankets near the wall, rising and falling in a steady rhythm and accompanied by tiny snores. It twitched and whined, whispering “...camembert,” with a purr.

Plagg.

Plagg was in her bed. Her sleep-heavy brain tried to catch up. Why was Chat Noir’s Kwami --

Oh.

The memory came back in a rush. Chat Noir had come to her terrace last night, frozen to the bone, his eyes distant. She’d brought him in, fed him, listened to him. Let him coil himself in her lap and fall asleep. She must have fallen asleep too at some point. 

Turning her head, Marinette caught sight of a lock of pale gold before whipping her head back towards the wall where Plagg wriggled against her sheets. The arm in front of her was not covered in black leather, there were no claws, just a human arm with tiny wisps of fine blond hair and human fingers with neatly trimmed nails. The mental math began to add up to a frightening reality: Chat Noir was in her bed. Chat Noir had destransformed at some point during the night. _Chat Noir was out of his suit and sleeping in her bed._

The transition from sleepy contentment to surging panic was fast enough to give her whiplash. With a shaking finger, she reached out to scratch at the top of Plagg’s head.

“Plagg,” she hissed. “Plagg, wake up.”

The Kwami let out an undignified snort, leaning into her touch. She tried again, calling his name louder. That finally got a reaction, but not from Plagg, but from Chat, who sighed again, curling himself around her. The arm in front of her pulled her back against his chest, and a puff of hot breath came through her hair to fan over her neck.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, mostly to herself. Squeezing her eyes shut, Marinette steeled herself, patting the arm in front of her.

“Chat,” she called. “Chat, wake up.”

Another sigh, then a murmur. Then a warm nose nuzzling at her scalp. Marinette groaned, resisting the urge to smack her palm against her face. This was _not_ happening.

“Chat Noir.” She let her voice be firm, giving his arm several pats in rapid succession. His body jolted softly against her, a quick inhale of breath followed by a confused hum. The arm draped over her shoulder lifted.

“What the…” she heard him murmur, his voice rough with sleep. “Where--”

There was a good four seconds of perfect silence and stillness, sharp enough to hear a breeze blow past her window.

“Oh _shit,”_ Chat swore, and Marinette almost laughed. She’d never heard him swear before. She kept her eyes tightly shut and willed herself not to smile.

“I didn’t see anything,” she said. “I promise.”

He sat up hurriedly, extracting himself from the pile of quilts they were both under, reaching over her head. Marinette heard Plagg squawk.

“What’s with the rude awakening? Can’t a Kwami get some breakfast before--”

“Later, Plagg,” Chat hissed. “Claws out!”

A flash of green filled her room, lighting up the darkness behind her eyelids. A hand patted her shoulder, and Marinette opened her eyes and turned to see Chat Noir’s mask and green eyes.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice low. “I didn’t mean to stay here all night.”

“It’s okay.” Marinette rubbed at one of her eyes, gritty with lingering sleep. “You should get home, though. Your father is probably worried."

His face fell. “Yeah.” he turned towards the terrace hatch, stopping halfway to drop back down. Chat took both of Marinette’s hands in his own.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely a breath as he kissed her knuckles. Then he pulled away, flicking open the hatch lock and disappearing through it, only a puff of frozen air to stand as evidence of his departure. Marinette stared at the space on her mattress he’d occupied only minutes before, and kept staring long after Tikki came out of hiding to join her.

xxx

The morning was even colder than the night, the streets of Paris covered with a layer of frost, the dawn breaking blue and grey. Had there been more clouds, Adrien would have expected snow, his breath fogging thick as he breathed. It was far colder without the suit as well, Plagg grumbling from within his sweater as he trudged towards his home.

He spotted the police vehicles from several blocks away, at least three of them, lined up in front of his father’s mansion. This was not going to be pleasant.

Officer Raincomprix saw him first, running up to Adrien while speaking into the intercom attached to his uniform.

He was led back to his home, a blanket was draped over his shoulders. Adrien felt oddly disconnected from it, numb, like it was happening to someone else. Nathalie came rushing from the front door, sliding to her knees and wrapping him up in a hug. When she pulled back, Adrien took in her exhausted appearance, her unkempt hair and red-rimmed eyes, and felt a hot wash of shame from head to toe. So much trouble he’d caused.

His father was in his study, hunched over in a chair with a glass tumbler of amber liquid in his hands. The glass fell to the floor and shattered as he shot across the room to where Adrien stood in the doorway.

He braced himself. But instead of another hand across his face, he found himself crushed against his father’s chest, a hand in his hair.

“My son,” his father whispered. “My Adrien. You’re _safe.”_

After the shock wore away, he let himself embrace his father.


	2. Fresh Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette can't sleep.

Marinette didn’t like to make a habit of staying up late. Between school, homework, sewing projects, designs for Jagged Stone, working with Kitty Section, and, of course, saving Paris on a regular basis, she needed all the sleep she could get.

Her diligent bedtime of 10:30 was a futile effort tonight, however. She’d tried everything: meditating, lavender tea, reading boring articles about real estate on her phone. But her mind refused to quiet down, keeping her suspended somewhere between awake and asleep. Finally, some time before midnight, she gave up entirely and awoke Tikki.

Paris was nice this time of night, and if her schedule wasn’t so packed, she’d take time to enjoy it more often. The streets were quiet, save for a few late night buskers and tourists, the occasional car driving by. The air was crisp, still clinging to a tinge of winter despite the looming spring, the trees dotted with the beginnings of green. Marinette, or rather Ladybug, sat on a tall roof to admire the view. She could probably see it every day for the rest of her life and never grow tired of it.

 _It’s very late,_ Tikki whispered in her mind.

“I know, I know.” The trip outside had helped, and she was confident she could fall asleep once she got home and be at least somewhat ready to face tomorrow. Standing to stretch, Marinette plotted her route home with her eyes, scanning the buildings, and stopped.

The Agreste mansion was four blocks out of the way. But what was four blocks to a superhero who could travel a mile a minute?

Marinette could almost hear Tikki tutting at her as she swung her yo-yo and took off. She’d just pop by, make sure everything was fine. That was okay, right? Adrien was a friend. She was just checking on a friend. No ulterior motives here.

The wall of windows that looked into his bedroom reflected the moonlight as she approached, but as Marinette landed on the fence surrounding the mansion, she realized a light was on. A lamp in the corner, next to Adrien’s bed - she flushed slightly, feeling a little giddy knowing she’d been in his bedroom as both Ladybug and Marinette. Squinting, she followed the light to the covers, where a boy sat, propped up on his pillows, a book in his hands.

Adrien.

She wasn’t the only one up late tonight.

Marinette knew she should leave. Go home, go back to bed. They had a history quiz tomorrow, and while she’d studied, it wouldn’t do her any good to be half-asleep for it. Yet against her better judgement (and against Tikki’s soft warnings), she let herself admire Adrien, relaxed in his home, slowly turning a page of his book. What was he reading? A fantasy? Mystery? Non-fiction? A romance....?

Her face went hot at the thought.

She had no idea how long she sat there, crouched on the fence overlooking his bedroom, until Adrien shifted. He placed a bookmark between the pages of his book and set it aside, rubbing at one eye. As he reached for the light, his head snapped up, and he froze.

He was looking directly at her.

_Crap._

Waving awkwardly, Marinette cursed softly at herself. How weird must this look? Ladybug just hanging out on his fence and staring into his bedroom in the dead of night? Yeah, that doesn’t look stalkerish at all.

Adrien sat perfectly still for several beats, then sprang into action, throwing off the covers and leaping from his bed. Marinette’s heart nearly stopped. He was coming towards the window. He was opening it. He was waving at her.

Death by embarrassment was a real thing, right?

Inside her head, a steady chant of _don’t, don’t, don’t_ had begun, but apparently her arm didn’t get the memo. Her yo-yo snagged on the roof, swinging her to the frame of the open window, where she landed with surprising grace. “Uh. Hi.”

“Ladybug,” he breathed, and _oh,_ her name sounded wonderful when he said it. “What’s happening? Is there an Akuma?”

“No!” her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “No, everything’s fine, just out for some fresh air.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

 _Say something, get out of there, go home_ she was practically screaming in her head. A superhero uses her head, she’d told Tikki once.

Tonight it seemed her heart was a little too loud.

“What are you doing up so late?” She asked, looking down at him from her window perch. It was certainly a different view - Adrien was a good head taller than her. She was used to having to look up to see his eyes.

Adrien smiled, soft and shy. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She chuckled. “Same.”

Were his cheeks pink, or was she imagining things?

Rubbing at his arm, Adrien looked very different than he did at school, where he stood tall and confident and unwavering. But here, in his black pajama pants and red sleep shirt, he looked so much younger, his shoulders hunched.

“Do you want to come in?”

She was certain he could hear the record scratch in her brain as she gaped at him. Every rational part of her pointed to a giant neon sign reading ‘NO.’

“Okay.”

She slipped down and hit the floor in front of him. Adrien was once again taller than her, motioning them both towards the white couch in front of the television.

“I can’t stay long,” Marinette said as she sat, a tiny sliver of rationality finally breaking through her love struck haze.

Adrien sat, leaving a good foot of space between them. “I understand. I just never see you unless one or both of us is in danger--” He stopped abruptly, his jaw clicking shut.

Marinette laughed. “That’s true. Normally I’m only Ladybug when Paris needs me.”

His eyebrows went up into his hair, and then it clicked why he looked so different. His hair was unstyled, a little damp, hanging loose around his ears. It was a lot longer than she’d realized - he must have spent a good amount of time and product on it every morning.

“And… what about when Paris doesn’t need you?” He asked, his voice timid.

She shrugged. “I’m just a normal girl. Normal life.”

Adrien chewed his lip and Marinette tracked the action. “I find that hard to believe.”

She wanted to laugh. “It’s true. I’m pretty... _garden variety_ when I’m not in the suit.”

He smiled at her then, and Marinette could have melted. How was one boy’s smile enough to light up an entire room? A whole city? A planet?

“I don’t know,” Adrien continued, his voice soft. “I think just being able to put on the suit makes you special. You put yourself on the line for us all the time - a garden variety girl couldn’t save Paris.” One of his hands curled on top of hers where it rested on the couch cushions. “You’re _incredible,_ Ladybug. And I bet you’re just as incredible under the mask, too.”

If she wasn’t blushing before, Marinette absolutely was now, her whole body flashing hot. Adrien just complimented her. Adrien Agreste, the most incredible boy in Paris, thought _she_ was incredible. It couldn’t be real. His fingers squeezed hers gently, and she wished dearly that her hand wasn’t covered so she could turn her palm and hold his hand. Without her suit.

The realization hit her. Like a soap bubble popping, elation was swept away by a profound sadness. Adrien thought _Ladybug_ was incredible. Not her. Not Marinette, the stuttering mess that sat behind him in class, that tripped over herself and her words and anything around her. The girl that Adrien was kind to, but no more than he was to anyone else.

“Ladybug?”

Her gaze snapped back up to his face from where it has wandered to the floor. Adrien peered at her, concern written all over his features. “Are you alright?”

The sadness must have shown on her face without her realizing. Marinette quickly plastered on one of her smiles, wide and toothy. “Yeah, I’m fine--”

A telltale beeping cut her off. Both she and Adrien jumped a little at the sound, Marinette’s hand going to her earring.

She sighed and stood. “That’s my curtain call.”

Adrien’s face fell, but he nodded and stood, walking with her back to the window as she jumped up to the sill with ease.

“Hey, Ladybug?”

She turned to face him. Adrien rubbed at the back of his neck with his hand, his cheeks most definitely pink.

“You can come by again sometime if you want,” He said. “To talk. I mean, if that’s cool.”

Marinette couldn’t have stopped the smile that split her face if she tried. “Okay.” With a wiz her yo-yo cut through the air to the chimney of a building across the street. “Goodnight, Adrien.” then she let herself zip away, leaving the Agreste mansion behind.

Once back in her room, Marinette dropped her transformation and flopped onto her bed, still in her pajamas from before. Tikki floated to her face.

“Marinette…”

“He thinks Ladybug is incredible,” she repeated, staring at the corkboard of photos on the wall beside her bed. Adrien’s face smiled back at her from all of them. “Not me.”

Tikki cuddled her cheek. “Marinette and Ladybug are the same person.”

Pulling the covers up over her, Marinette sighed loudly. “It doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”

Her Kwami snuggled closer. “But you _are,_ Marinette. And Adrien will realize it eventually.”

Bringing a hand out of the covers, Marinette hugged Tikki, then settled into her pillow. Eventually. Eventually she might learn how to talk normally around him, stop falling over when he got close. Maybe eventually she could even learn to be brave around him.

Smiling, Marinette closed her eyes. She could handle eventually.


	3. Close Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a little too close.

She couldn’t have run faster if she tried.

Marinette’s lungs burned with the effort to move, even her super powers not enough to offset the strain in her legs. She was running out of time, the beeping in her ears signaling her sixty second warning. Beside her, Chat Noir’s boots thumped over the clay roof tiles, his labored breath cutting through the rain that beat down all around them. His ring beeped.

This was bad. It was still daylight, and despite the weather, the streets were still flooded with pedestrians and onlookers, hoping to catch a glance of Paris’ heroes, fresh off the battlefield after fending off another supervillain.

If she or her partner dropped their transformations now, they’d be seen as plain as day.

“My Lady!” Chat cried out. His ring began its final countdown and Marinette felt her heart plummet to her feet. This was so, so bad.

In the corner of her eye, she spotted it. A deserted and closed rooftop cafe, void of people. To one side, a bar, and behind the counter, a door.

Her earrings beeped. No time left.

“Chat!” She pointed towards it, and Marinette had never been so thankful for their close relationship and his ability to read her without words. Together they dove towards the drenched cafe, splashing through puddles and leaping over the bar to crash through the door.

It swung closed just as they both stood. At their feet, pink and green light flashed. She locked eyes with Chat for a split second, his wide and panicked, before they both whirled around to face either wall. The room filled with light, then returned to darkness.

She stared at the shelves in front of her and panted for air, feeling Chat - no, _the boy who was Chat_ \- do the same against her back. They both stood in the dim light of the back bar, surrounded by liquor bottles and crates of limes, dripping wet.

“That,” he wheezed. “Was too close.”

Tikki floated up to face Marinette, visibly exhausted. Marinette cupped her hands and let her Kwami fall into them. “I think I need to sit down,” she said out loud, giving a warning before sliding to the floor. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder, reaching instead for her purse and the macaron she always kept.

“Yeah.” She felt Chat sit, pressing his back against hers. He was warm against the chill of the rain, his ribs still expanding and shrinking with labored breath.

“Ohhh,” came a whining voice. “How could you push me that hard? You’re cruel!”

“Hush, Plagg.”

Marinette giggled. She’d met Plagg more than once, and he was most certainly a handful. Unwrapping the macaron, she handed it to Tikki, thankful she’d began sealing them in plastic lately. Otherwise it would have been a soggy mess inside her drenched bag.

“Now, now, Plagg,” she said while Tikki munched away on the cookie. “You know we didn’t do this on purpose.”

With a huff, Plagg flew in front of her face, holding a half eaten wedge of camembert that looked damp. “Oh? How can I be sure?”

Marinette scratched behind one of his ears. “Would I lie to you?” Plagg leaned into her touch and purred, closing his eyes. He was finicky at first glance, but surprisingly easy to please. A wedge of cheese and a carefully placed scratch was all it took to tame him.

“You know Plagg?”

Chat Noir’s voice was soft, softer than she could ever remember hearing it. Did he sound like that because he was out of the suit?

“Yeah,” Marinette answered, letting Plagg rest in her hand beside Tikki. “We met that one time you lost your Miraculous.”

“When I--” Chat cut himself off, his spine stiffening against hers. “Oh. Right.” He was quiet for a spell, the only sound was the rain that continued to fall outside, filling the room with a low, steady buzz. “I’ve never met your Kwami, though.”

Meeting Tikki’s eyes, Marinette nodded once with a smile. Her Kwami took the half eaten macaron and zipped behind her, followed by Chat gasping softly.

“Nice to meet you, Chat Noir. I’m Tikki.”

“Tikki.” There was wonder in Chat’s voice. “Nice to meet you, too.” He paused. “A macaron?”

“Tikki likes sweets,” Marinette explained, continuing to scratch Plagg. She thought she could feel Chat shake his head, letting out a chuckle.

“Figures. You get the Kwami that eats cute desserts, I get the one that only eats stinky cheese.”

Marinette heard Tikki giggle softly. In her hand, Plagg inhaled what remained of his camembert, letting out a tiny burp. The four of them sat in silence.

“Wish I had something to drink,” Marinette admitted, leaning a bit more against Chat. “That fight took a lot out of me.”

“Yeah.”

Chat made a soft sound, then Marinette felt him stretch to her left. She pulled her knees to her chest on reflex, ready to shield her face. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not looking at you, promise.”

She didn’t relax, not until his back returned to hers, their spines aligning. A bottle entered her peripheral vision.

“Here.”

She took it, hearing the _pssht_ of another opening behind her as she examined the bottle. It was lemon soda, the kind she loved. Marinette set Plagg down on her knee and reached for the cap, then stopped.

“Chat, we can’t just drink these. This is stealing!”

She felt more than heard his laugh. “I’ll come back later and pay for them, don’t worry.”

Marinette stared at the bottle. She probably shouldn’t. But her throat was parched, and she was still on the other side of the city from her home. And it was still raining. With a sigh of resignation, she opened the cap and took several gulps. Neither said anything as they drank their sodas in the bar storeroom, back to back. Marinette knew Tikki and Plagg were probably ready to go, but she was tired. Her legs ached, as did her head, and a mountain of homework awaited her return. Sitting quietly with Chat Noir sounded nice, at least for a bit.

“You okay back there, Bugaboo?”

Chat’s question was quiet and gentle, two things his voice rarely were. He almost sounded like a different person. “Yeah, Chaton.” Marinette answered. “Just tired.”

“Same.”

Closing her eyes, Marinette leaned back against him, letting her head rest on his shoulder a little. She still couldn’t see anything, though it was hard to deny her curiosity. What kind of person was Chat Noir without his mask? Just as loud and annoying as he was with it? Or was he like her, turning into someone completely different when backed with the power of a Miraculous?

The thought of Chat’s alter ego being shy and withdrawn almost made her laugh. No way.

Chat leaned back against her, the soft brush of his hair against her ear. Was he a natural blonde?

“Thanks for having my back today,” she whispered. Chat hummed, a smile coming through in the sound. Fingers touched her shoulder, angling oddly as Chat reached back.

“Always, partner.”

They waited until the sound of the rain died down to a drizzle, then donned their superhero personas. Chat smiled at her, his green cat eyes glittering in the city lights. With a salute and a grin, Chat set off towards the west, his hopping form fading into the rooftops. Throwing out her yo-yo, Marinette went north, taking the long way home.


	4. Exclusive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> >A new video has been uploaded. Watch?

[The following is a transcript of the most recent Ladyblog video]

[Begin playing.  Alya Césaire sits on a couch with a tablet in hand. On another couch beside her sits Ladybug and Chat Noir. ]

**Alya Césaire** **:** Hello Ladybug fans! I’m here with Paris’ very own Ladybug and Chat Noir for something you’ve all been asking for - an exclusive interview with our favorite superhero duo!

**Ladybug:** Thank you for having us, Alya.

**Chat Noir:** [blows a kiss at the camera] Always a pleasure.

**AC:** The pleasure is all mine! Before we begin, I’ll state for the record that all questions will be kept in safe territory, and our heroes are not obligated to answer any of them. Sound good? Let’s start off with a popular fan question. What sort of powers do you have, exactly? Super strength? Agility?

**LB:** Both. I also have  _ really _ good luck.

**CN:** Mine comes with super hearing and night vision.

**AC:** Ooh, night vision! Chat Noir, has that come in handy in the past?

**CN:** Oh, definitely! There have been a couple of times that Akumas have left us quite literally in the dark. My Lady couldn’t see a thing, but luckily I was there to save the day.

**LB:** (laughs) He’ll never let that one go.

**AC:** Alright, moving on to another fan question. Are there any particular Akumas that - I hesitate to use the word ‘favorite’ here - that have, we’ll say, given you less trouble?

**LB:** Oh jeeze. They’ve all had their own unique challenges, and some of them were a bit more… um, taxing?

**CN:** There have been a few that took us a lot longer to defeat. [to Ladybug] Remember Guitar Villain? I had bruises for days after that one.

**LB:** Oof, yeah, that one was a doozy.

**AC:** (laughs) I guess we’re not getting a clear answer for that one, huh? Let’s hit the next question, then. It seems that Akumatized villains never remember their actions while under Hawk Moth’s control. There are several theories floating around, but why do you think that is?

**LB:** Hmm. That’s a good question. I think maybe it has to do with their minds being taken over? I can’t say for sure, but it seems like being Akumatized is a lot like being possessed.

**CN:** I’ve never been Akumatized, but I have been controlled by Akumatized villains, as much as I hate to admit it. And I’ve come out of it not remembering a thing. It was like I blinked and suddenly I was in a different place and time. It’s sort of unnerving, to be honest.

**LB:** All the more reason we need to work fast to free victims who’ve been Akumatized.

**AC:** Well, we know we can always count on you for that. Next question: What’s your favorite part of being a superhero?

[Ladybug and Chat Noir glance at each other]

**LB:** Getting to help people. That sort of thing has always made me happy, even out of the suit.

**CN:** Spoken like a true hero, My Lady. As for me, my favorite part is getting to spend time with the ever wonderful Ladybug. I’m the luckiest cat in Paris!

**LB:** _ Chaton. _ [she smiles and flicks his bell]

**AC:** [laughs] I think most of Paris would agree with you, Chat Noir. Now, the fans are desperate for tidbits about you. I understand that you can’t tell us anything too personal, but for an easy one, what are your favorite colors?

**LB:** [pauses] Green.

**CN:** Blue, like my Lady’s eyes.

[Ladybug turns to Chat Noir, who grins at her]

**AC:** Ooh, how very telling! Here’s one from me. Something I’ve always wondered is how the two of you know when Akumas happen. Is it a right time, right place sort of thing? Do you have a sixth sense? And how do you contact each other when one appears?

**LB:** It’s a little of everything, honestly. After all the Akumas we’ve defeated, we’ve learned the signs. And we don’t have a way to contact each other when we’re not transformed, but I know I can always count on Chat Noir to back me up. [she puts a hand on CN’s shoulder] He’s my partner, and I trust him more than anyone.

**CN:** Aw, Bugaboo. It’s the same for me. I trust Ladybug with my life. She has the uncanny ability to show up just at the right time, and I know she’d never let me down.

**AC:** Sounds like you have a wonderful partnership. Our last question of the night - because you’re both busy superheroes - is the number one question on the Ladyblog forums. Do the two of you know each other’s identities?

**LB and CN:** No.

**AC:** [surprised] Really?

**LB:** Yes, really. It’s important to keep our identities a secret, even from each other. If anyone knew who we were, our friends and family's safety could be at risk. It’s too dangerous.

**CN:** It pains me, but my Lady is right. Though I am a very curious cat, I respect her wish to remain a mystery. [CN leans into LB] It just makes her more alluring, though!

**LB:** [shakes her head and pushes him off] You’re terrible, Chat. We have an agreement that once we defeat Hawk Moth and Paris is safe, we’ll reveal ourselves to each other.

**CN:** And I look forward to that day.

**AC:** Alright, that’s all the questions I have for now. Thank you both for your time! Is there anything you’d like to say to your fans before we sign off?

**LB:** I’d like to ask everyone to stay positive. We understand that Akumas are attracted to and feed off negative emotions, so chins up, everyone! And we’ll always be there to save Paris, no matter what.

**CN:** Well said. You can count on us!

**AC:** And Paris has your backs! Thank you again for the interview. This has been Alya  Césaire of the Ladyblog, thank you for watching!

[Ladybug and Chat Noir wave at the camera]

[end of video]


End file.
